I meet Thorne’s eyes and run my thumb over the back of his neck. “With all my heart.”
Mr. Boris releases a resigned sigh. “Please don’t drop her. If you do, I’ll…I’ll find you and tear you limb from limb with my teeth.”
“And I’ll gouge out your eyes with my claws,” Minka says in a chillingly pleasant tone.
Thorne smiles down at me. “I already assured Her Highness that I’ll never let her go.”
My heart tumbles in my chest. Even more so as he springs into a jump, his wings gathering a gust of air and launching us high into the sky. I cling tight to him, my face buried against his neck, his arms secured around me, as we fly to face whatever awaits.
PARTIV
SO CURSED
42
THORNE
The sun dips low toward the horizon by the time we near Nocturnus Palace, the hazy cast of the Lunar Court atmosphere blanketing our surroundings in warm pink and purple tones. We pass over forests, lakes, and cities at a dizzying speed—even for me. My wings ache from constant flight, my arms nearly numb as they keep Briony secure against me, but I didn’t dare stop or rest. Not until we sort out whatever trouble has befallen Briony’s home.
Whatever is happening, I know it’s my fault. It has to be. I never should have sent that missive to Trentas after Briony and I made our bargain. Why was I so hasty? I knew he was eager for an update after I told him I was enacting my plan to put the Briars to sleep, but I could have made him wait just a little longer. Yet I was worried he’d do something hasty if I left him out too long.
And now he has, but it wasbecauseof my correspondence with him, not my avoidance of it.
Now everything Briony cares about is at stake.
The towering spires of Nocturnus Palace come into view, the amethyst walls and gilded crenellations sparkling under the waning light of the ever-descending sun. I finally allow myself to slow my pace, my wings beating in gentler intervals as we begin to lower toward our destination. I bring my lips close to Briony’s ear. “We’re about to arrive.”
She untucks her head from under my chin, where she kept her face shielded from the relentless wind. I, of course, am used to such an incessant barrage. My skin may look the same in my unseelie form as it does in my seelie, but it grows tougher when I shift. Demons were made to fly. It is one of the few things humans are right about when it comes to the many misconceptions they have about my kind of fae. Yet, as we draw even closer to the palace and I catch a glimpse of what troubles await, I feel like a demon in the darkest sense. For I must bear responsibility for what lies below.
Briony releases a startled gasp, a sound that sends shards of pain to my heart. I keep us suspended midair, directly over the palace lawn—or what used to be it. Now it’s a field of scorched earth, glowing embers, and wild brambles that erupt from the soil. Upon this field, several figures are locked in combat, sending snarls, growls, and shouts to ripple through the air. Two kitsune with balls of flame hovering over their tails—one orange and the other blue—exchange vicious bites. Another fight involves a pair of fae who look mostly human in their seelie forms, engaged in a brawl of fists and daggers. Spectators circle the field like vultures, awaiting their chance to join the brawl.
I can tell just by looking at them who they are—leaders of the factions who’ve been desperate for the throne ever since Horus Briar claimed it twenty-one years ago. Figures who’ve been thwarted by Divina Briar’s magic and the protocols required to challenge a monarch. The fact that they’re fighting now tells me they know about the king’s condition. They know there’s no one to hear their challenges. No one to refuse them. No one to set an appointment and order them to come back later, as royal custom demands.
This is their chance to claim the crown.
Stones below, I can’t imagine how much deadlier this would be if it were the unseelie throne that was open for the taking. This is bad enough.
And yet…where the hell is Trentas?
I scan the lawn, but as a shadow falls over us, I realize I should have scanned the skies first. A black dragon with slitted yellow eyes soars overhead. As he passes, Trentas meets my gaze, a challenging look on his scaly face as his attention shifts to Briony in my arms.
“Is that him?” she asks, voice quavering. “The dragon who raised you?”
“Yes,” I say through my teeth. Trentas averts his gaze, then soars down to the lawn below. I follow in his wake, but I don’t land near the fight like he does. Instead, I veer closer to the palace. As we approach, I discover a wall of tightly woven brambles has been erected around the palace, which I assume was constructed by palace guards, ones with earthen magic. It isn’t a perfect solution, for anyone with the power of flight could land on the roof and invade. Then again, I suppose the challengers have no reason to invade. They must know the king and queen are incapacitated. Their goal isn’t to seek out the current monarch or destroy the palace; it’s to determine who will cross that wall of brambles as the new ruler.
“What do we do?” Briony asks, her voice laced with panic. “This…this is chaos.”
“I know.” Guilt and rage infuse my tone. “I must talk with Trentas and get him to back down. You should check on your family.”
She nods, her motions jagged. We cross the wall of brambles with ease, though I keep my senses keen in case any airborne attacks try to counter our approach. An arrow whizzes toward us from one of the battlements, and I dodge it just in time. Shit. Of course they can’t see I’m carrying their princess. I pick up speed, dodging another arrow as we fly to the opposite side of the palace. Lucky for us, there seem to be very few archers or soldiers present to protect the palace, for we reach a vacant battlement unscathed. Though if the palace were properly staffed, perhaps there wouldn’t be a bloodbath on the lawn.
I gently set Briony on her feet, and she slowly unlaces her arms from around my neck. Her limbs must be burning from clinging to me so tightly for the last several hours, but she doesn’t fully release me. Instead, she lays her palms over my chest. “Thorne, what can we possibly do about this?”
I gently cup her cheek and lower my lips to hers in a soft kiss. “I’ll take care of it. All we need is time. I’ll convince Trentas to give it to us.”
She nibbles her bottom lip, her body tense. I can tell she’s fighting to say something—or not to—but I don’t know what it is. Is she hiding something? Did something happen? I recall the conversation we were in the middle of when her servants interrupted us.
I can’t kiss him the way I kissed you.
